The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. She fidgeted and looked away. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. The decision had been sound. You see, I’m separated from my wife. You're the first widow I ever heard of who could withstand that lure.
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